“I’m busy! There’s way too much to contend with and, as you should have already been informed, I don’t have time to grab dinner, lunch, breakfast, or coffee with you! You know your own way out!”
Elien growled and walked into Tobin’s office. “Always the ray of sunshine I grew up with. There’s no time for this pettiness, and I’m not here to grab something to eat! I’m here for your cruiser!”
Tobin stood to his full height. He was only a few inches shorter than Elien, but always had an intimidating presence that he lorded over his brother any chance he got. In this instance, however, there was no indication Elien was going to be driven away by any sort of bluster. Then there was the mild shock that he had the audacity to demand his ship!
“My cruiser is locked away and isn’t available for cheap thrills, Elien! I’m sure you have your own vessel locked away in the senatorial docks!”
“Yes! Yes! You know me too well! Only, it’s too long of a story to get into! I need to leave the city immediately and your vessel is on the short list to get me there!” Elien waved his hand through the air dismissively. “I can acquisition it without your permission, as you well know. However, I’d rather you just fly me out to Obsidian Creeks!”
“Obsidian Creeks! Don’t be absurd!” Tobin howled as Elien turned and exited the office, evidently bored with the conversation. Tobin followed after him.
“Now, see here! I just told you I’m too busy for this! You can’t have it!”
“Then fly the damn thing yourself! One way or another, I’m going to be onboard! Are you coming along or do you wish to put on a pithy show for your lackadaisical excuse for dockhands!?”
Tobin growled as the robed man marched past several office personnel and across the bay towards Tobin’s private port. He hurried after his brother cursing him under every breath.
“I can take you to Obsidian Creeks in half an hour!”
“We don’t have half an hour! Get your ass in gear!”
“Why do you always make these demands during our peak season!?”
“When are you ever not in peak season, Tobin!?”
Tobin granted him access to his cruiser and they were halfway to Obsidian Creeks when an alarm on his control console signaled. He stared at it in shocked amazement and slowed the vessel down to turn it towards Aquila Mons. There, high in the atmosphere and from orbit, dreadnought fire was pouring onto the city.
“What the hell!?”
Elien wandered up from where he was lounging in a side room. “What are you going on about? Ah. So, that’s how they’re doing it.”
Tobin stared at him, his mouth agape. “You knew about this!?”
“Don’t be absurd! I knew nothing! I just suspected! Now get us to Obsidian Creeks! I need to get to Earth. And given what we’re seeing, it looks like you’d best come with me!”
Anger flashed across Tobin’s face. “You miserable son of a bitch! You were going to just leave me there! Would you even have missed me if I were killed in that devastation!?”
“A preposterous conjecture, Tobin. I knew you wouldn’t stay behind and let me steal your ship.”
Tobin looked back at the city, a tear stinging his eye. “Me and Stelio were talking about getting back together… he, he’s still in there, Elien!”
Elien scoffed. “That tart you keep shacking up with? Good riddance! He was bad for you anyway! Turn this ship around and get us going! We’ll take a passenger liner to Earth.”
Elien went back to his room and Tobin stared in horror, his heart dropping. Perhaps he was going to Earth, after all. But he knew something even deeper in his heart: I hate you, Elien. I’ve always hated you and will always hate you. You’re a callous bastard, and all my hate I give unto you…
Tobin guided the cruiser back around, wishing he’d sprung for a model that could break into orbit. He would’ve loved an opportunity to push Elien out of an airlock.
WAR OF THE WORLDS
PRESIDENT ELDRIDGE LEE sat alone in his office staring out the window overlooking the central pavilions of Philadelphia. He was in the governmental high rise on the seventy-second floor and from this vantage could see to the sea. Its cresting waves were far away, but the foam crashing into the shoreline was still vividly visible. It’d been some time since he’d last been to his beach home and was thinking he could really use a vacation after all the machinations he’d set into motion had come falling down like a house of cards. It hadn’t been just a failure, it’d been a spectacular failure.
The fleets were supposed to have arrived just as Berricks had levelled Aquila Mons and destroyed the Hinon production facilities. Instead, at least according to initial reports (including one rather scatterbrained assessment delivered by two lost gentlemen by the names of Biggs and Wedge) the Invicta had been destroyed. By the Defense Force, possibly. But he was hearing it had been an inside job that had forced the dreadnought to drop its shields and to shut its weapons systems offline. He didn’t like it. Other agents were in play he hadn’t anticipated. Especially not from the Council. Those rubes were simply unaware and unconcerned about any sort of dominance. Good for him, but all-of-a-sudden a hindrance in the grander scheme of things. Providing, of course, they were the ones who’d ordered the secret disabling of the Invicta.
One of theirs, perhaps. Perhaps someone else. A disruption, nothing else. Eldridge took a sip of his tea and then placed the ceramic mug back on the end table beside his chair. He uncrossed his legs and stood up to walk to the window, clasping his hands behind his back. He wasn’t wearing his black duster at the moment, only a black silk shirt and dark blue dress pants. His brown pate freshly shaven despite the dire news. He was refreshed and felt good, all things considered. The war had been renewed, but his fleets awaited his orders. He’d decided to have them hold position until further notice. Perhaps it’ll rattle them some. Make the Council and its Supreme Chancellor nervous. Make a mistake, somehow. It was a chest game, he knew. One that would require a patient, decisive hand. He would need to appoint a new fleet commander to the Eighth. That was in time, though. For now, he could afford to wait a little. The damage had been done and it was time to let them play diplomat a while longer. Then, when all the pieces were in play, he’d strike at their heart finally taking Hinon back into the Union.
No, it wasn’t a problem at all. It’d only been a few days since they’d lost the Invicta (he hated losing a dreadnought. They were too expensive and long in the production cycle. The one nearing completion in orbit had taken nearly five years to finish. They just didn’t have that kind of time at their disposal just yet). Word had come that an envoy was on its way to Earth. Suing for peace, he was sure. Well, he’d let them have their time in the sun. It was all part of the plan. And maybe, if he was lucky, he’d also discover who his secret saboteurs were.
POLK & LYNCH: GUNSLINGERS
AMELIA AND CURT pushed aside fallen detritus. They’d spent the last four days trying to dig their way out from under their apartment. They’d gotten lucky. When the bombardments had begun, they’d sought refuge in the subterranean shelters. One of dozens Curt was aware of. This one had been stocked with food, water, and some pressurized atmosuits in mint condition. Strangely, they’d been the only ones to arrive in that particular shelter and he wondered not for the first time why exactly that was.
Curt grunted as he pushed aside a heavy firocrete barrier that might have once been a wall. It tipped over to its other side with a resounding thud that they both could feel in their bones.
Finally! He looked to the skies seeing the deep rich blackness of space and the stars. There were no lights in Aquila Mons anymore. The city was a wasteland of debris and shattered buildings. More than one time they both thought they’d be crushed to death by the building coming down on top of them. It was scary, he had to admit. The rumbling tremors and the dust out beyond the viewport of their shelter, the raining debris that sounded like it had kept falling for ages. And all the while they held each other in their pressurized suits, p
raying to the gods that they’d live to see another day. It’d been pitch black save for the lanterns on their suits. And that first day had been spent in a constant storm of fear as they worked to pry the door to the shelter loose. It hadn’t wanted to budge, but after a night of working it over using the welding tools in a box within the shelter, they’d managed to escape into the gloom of thousands of tons of building materials.
“Feels like we were down there for years…” Amelia said pulling him out of his daze.
They worked their way up on top of the debris staring down at a ground that was more fallen building than the old walkways. “Yeah, I’m not going to lie, I thought we were going to die down there.”
They looked to one another, the only two people in a city that hosted millions. He tried not to think about it too much.
“I’m hungry.”
“Go easy on your rations. I don’t know how much further we have to go to find any help.”
Amelia looked around the virtual hellscape, the starlight casting an ominous glow all across the debris. “I know… gods, Curt. Are they all dead? Did mom and dad…?”
“I…” Curt paused. All he’d been thinking about for days was getting out from under all the titanium, firocrete, rebar, and other materials for which he had little knowledge. Only that it was in the way. Mom… dad… did they get back alright? Did they try to find us? “We can’t think about that right now. We have to get to some other town. Find… some means of getting out of here. See if we can contact anyone around.”
“What are we going to do?” She looked to him in an exhausted, fearful way. He wasn’t sure.
He walked down the sloping mound of detritus and started across the way towards where he assumed an exit to the city was located. Somewhere along the edge of the ancient volcano he was certain. “I don’t know, Ami.” He looked across the way from the collapsed high rise and saw the old weapons depot scattered to all directions. She followed him down and across towards that old building.
Amelia watched him kick at some of the debris and found a collection of weapons scattered all across the ground. He picked up a gun, looked to her. “We do what mom and dad taught us to do. We survive. This isn’t the first Wastelands we’ve found ourselves in, now is it?”
She shook her head. “No. I guess not.”
“Then, take your pick. We’ll scavenge for supplies. Look for a holoterminal. Hope that it works well enough to get a signal out.”
“I guess… there’s nothing else we can do.”
He shook his head. “Not for now. But just like I knew we were getting out from under that building, I know we’re going to find some help.”
“Okay. Then, I guess we should get moving.” She reached into the chaos of the scattered weapons and picked out a gun and a blade. Then started sifting through for ammunition. After they were both content with their takings, they started out across the destruction.
FINALE: IT RUNS IN THE FAMILY
LILYBELL FIRED ANOTHER shot at a series of bottles sitting on a practice range. It was little more than a fence, really. Set up out behind the barn her mother had once owned (bless her soul), and far away from any major town or village.
Her mother rarely came out to the ranch when alive, preferring to spend her time in the surrounding towns looking for any surviving family members. The promise of security once arriving on the Martian surface had been quickly vaporized, Lilybell recalled. None of her mother’s family were apparently still living. Even Uncle Terry had vanished without a trace, no one having a clue as to where he’d gone.
It was because of her uncle, that they’d wound up in Rented City. He’d once owned a coffin shop in town, though he wasn’t the undertaker. But, one day (so the tavernkeep said) he up and disappeared. Flustered, her mother looked for an inn to stay the night. She’d been wearing her frilly, satin blue dress that day and that dress was what had taken hold of the attention of some outlaws. Who brazenly attacked her and dragged her down an alleyway. Lilybell had managed to escape to find help. No one was willing to intervene, however.
After having their way, they murdered her. Leaving Lilybell to be taken in by the local preacher. She grew accustomed to the way things worked in Rented City. Thugs, outlaws, mercenaries, thieves, and assassins all had a strange liking for the town. Probably because of how remote it was from any other major hub in the Wastelands. Whatever the reason, she’d kept as low a profile as possible ever since. Even managed to acquire her mother’s dress to wash it clean of blood stains and other… bodily fluids the outlaws were so kind as to leave behind.
Lilybell lowered her arm, the pistol gripped tightly in her right hand. Why, mom? Why did you drag us all the way out here? What did grandfather do to you that made you so afraid? Her chest throbbed a few beats as she refused to cry. Why did you leave me alone here? With these lowlifes and miscreants?
Several times over the last five years since then she’d tried to find the barn. And every time she was forced to return to Rented City because, as the sheriff once told her, ‘The wildlands are no place fer a little lady on her own.’ And so, she minded herself, hiding away when the outlaws came, keeping close company with young women she was growing to despise. Because ‘it’s just a woman’s job to mind the home and feed the menfolk. Keep ‘em happy, and you’ll be happy too!’ She allowed a scowl to fall across her face and fixed her gaze on three bottles. She whipped her arm forward and fired three shots. All three bottles exploded into a myriad of shards and beat the ground with little dust plops. She allowed her arm to settle back by her hip, pushing back the flowing white redingote she wore. Its flared bottom flopped back in a half-bell shape, enhancing her curves. The gold trimming, with its random designs, reflected sunlight outward giving her a subtle glow. She reached up to the frilly brimmed tea-hat on her head and tugged it down a smidgeon against the bright glare. She let out a shuddering sigh. Those whores. Those wretches. Those sanctimonious tarts. Well, I’m old enough now. And there isn’t a man in the world who will hold this hand. Not so long as I draw breath.
She dropped her left hand and eyed another four bottles. She whipped her gun arm again and fired four rounds. Three of the bottles popped in sparkling displays of reds and greens. The fourth stood there, taunting her.
“Ah, fiddlesticks and pissweed!”
Lilybell opened up the cartridge chamber and saw only a few bullets left. She reached into the gun-belt around her waist and reloaded the empty rounds. Then flipped the chamber back into place and ran her hand across it, causing it to spin in a satisfying whirl. The weapon in her hand was one of a pair of Parabellum Classics, which were small semi-automatic pistols that some jokingly referred to as, ‘Needlers’. Mostly because the bullets were small, but ‘needled’ through a person’s guts in a matter of days rather than hours. A slow death. The least any of these rampaging outlaws deserved. Which was why she spent every day practicing with them to perfection. She missed fewer and fewer shots anymore. Had it not been for that day months earlier, when the Woman-In-Red came to town dispensing Justice (with a capital ‘J’), she might never have made the decisions she’d made since.
How symbolic that day had been for her. She’d worn her mother’s old dress, for nostalgia, or fanciness, or as a sheer dare to the outlaws she’d grown tired of and just wanted to quit life over, she couldn’t say with any certainty. But that dress, it stood for the past. And the Woman-In-Red, the Chuhukon gunslinger liberating a small town from tyranny, represented a future she only dreamed of holding. And if she could do it…
Why shouldn’t I be able to?
So, she packed up her belongings (what little there were), and ignored the preacher’s protests as she went out to catch a coach to the next town over. A town a little larger and maybe a little safer. Macer Dug. Not the ruthless dirt-hole that Rented City was, but not exactly Aquila Mons either. Still, it was through some of her mother’s old belongings and happenstance that it was there she discovered where her mother’s ranch was located. And took o
ff for it the very next day.
She spent a few days acclimating to her new fortune. A bank in the nearest town had been keeping track of her mother’s finances and the interest had accrued. Finding a cart-driver to take her back and forth from the ranch posed no problem. And inside the ranch-house, she discovered the Needlers packed away in pristine condition up in the attic. Beside the trunk they’d been in, set a pair of black, knee high riding boots. It all had fallen together without her even trying. And she knew the Gods were smiling on her.
Destiny was speaking. She was going to be a gunslinger.
It hadn’t taken long to gather up what she needed. A new redingote special ordered, tucked tight at the waist. The tea-hat with four Marsolite sticks in the band that were actually throwing darts (she’d gotten really good at tossing them with accuracy!). Thick white pantaloons and a frilly dress shirt to complete the look. Sure, there wasn’t much by way of armored protection, however, she figured if she became the quickest, most accurate sharpshooter around, that would never be an issue.
Lilybell holstered her pistol and walked over to the fence to set up another six bottles. Then came back to her firing position and drew her Needler once more.
Mom, I swear it on my life, I’m going to bring real justice to these undeserving wastrels. And then, maybe one day, you’ll let me know why we left Earth to come here. She fought a frown trying to form. Maybe.
She took aim with the little Needler and fired off three shots. Each bottle popped as a zing rang out through the air with each shot. Tiny little giggles burst forth from her as she fired, and she bounced up and down on her toes in excitement with her success.
Soon, I’ll be just as good as Ms. Aidele herself! She smiled brightly and happened to look up. Streaking across the sky was a line of light disappearing into the dark of space. It had a purplish tint to it and was gone almost as soon as she’d spotted it. Huhn. Not often you see meteors streaking away from the planet… She turned back to the bottles and aimed again when a voice broke her concentration.
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